NationStates Jolt Archive

http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c381/crave22/Cravan/cravanflagnew.png
From the Desk of the Emperor of Cravan
As Emperor of the Democratic Empire, I have decided that I shall be hosting a ball in the Imperial Palace in the name of good relations with the leaders of the world, to be held at a date which will be announced in the near future. ((OOC: Aka, whenever I get some people on board.)) In an attempt to improve relations with our friends and allies, I encourage all friendly leaders of the nations of the world to attend and get to know each other on a more personal level, and discuss both politics and personal subjects. As said, friendly heads of state are encouraged to attend and to bring a few guests, such as family and high ranking staff members.

Formal dress is requested as this is a black tie event. It will be held in the main ballroom of the Imperial Palace, where drinks and various snacks will be served. Music will be provided by the Imperial Military Orchestra and Chorus. Security will also be very tight, with several squads of both undercover and in-uniform Imperial Guardsmen on watch, both in the open and in the shadows. Guests are permitted and encouraged to bring their own security details as well, armed with nothing larger than a concealed sidearm. They are encouraged to coordinate with the Imperial Guardsmen to increase overall security coverage of the area.

The Democratic Empire is looking to cement relations with various nations of the world, and as I have said what better way than to get to know your friends personally? I hope to see you there, and may God bless you.

Sincerely,

Matthew R. Craven
Matthew R. Craven
Emperor of the Democratic Empire of Cravan



((OOC: Essentially what I'm looking for are any of my allies and those nations which I'm neutral/friendly towards to attend. I will request that there be no terrorist attacks or bomb threats, seeing as I want to get in a few peaceful RPs before I devote all my time to those violent RPs which I love so much. I'd like to cement my relations with other nations through this, and therefore I need a variety of people.

I am putting a request here that you please refrain from one-liners as much as possible. I'd like I nice, long RP here that isn't filled with single-line posts. I understand it is hard to do sometimes, and I have to do it when I have little or nothing to really say, but please try to make your posts full of details. I'm not really picky on grammar or vocabulary, so don't worry.

I'd say this is ready to kick off when I get a good number of responses... Please make a nice IC response saying you'll be there, and I'll see what I get over the next few days and we can go from there.))

"Hey! I'll be happy to attend your ball. Haven't been to a ball before though, so how should I dress? I haven't even ventured out of my country for a few years...Any suggestions? How does a Nineteen Twenties style suit, or a Penguin Tuxedo sound? Please Email me back when you get the chance. Thanks!"

Encryption: None
From: Keene
To: Whom it May Concern in the Cravanian Government
I look forward to attending this ball, and the resulting growth in our
governments relations.

To: Alexander <xxxxx@xxx.xxx>
From: Emperor Craven <crave22@cravan.crv>
As I said in the email, formal dress is requested. Any type of suit will do, really. Thank you for your response, and I can't wait to see you there.

************

To: Keene <xxxxx@xxx.xxx>
From: Emperor Craven <crave22@cravan.crv>
I look forward to seeing you there, old friend.

************

"No, no, no!", Head Director Vince Gallens shouted, clipboard in hand. He surged forward towards the workers in the ballroom who were adding in the last miniute touches for the ball. "That table goes over there for God's sake, get it right damnit!"
"Sorry, sir... No reason to jump down our throats for it."
"Well if you'd get it right the first frigging time!-"
"Vince...", the Emperor said chuckling as he walked down the Marble stairs. "Calm down."
"Sorry, sir... I got caught up in the moment."
"Take five, boys. It's not important right now. You too, Vince. Go and get some coffee for Christ's sake. I'll come with you."
"Yes, sir."

Alexander sent a voice email this time. He, sadly, accidentally pushed the video feed button as well.

"Any suit will do, eh? What about a Formal Military Uniform? It has 'Formal' in it's name! I could show off my former rank before I became the leader of this country! Oh how I miss those days.."

He turned around and quickly closed the video link.

"Thank goodness there was a lamp there...didn't want to show off my torso. Inappropriate, I know. Not the kind of thing to be sharing with one leader to another. Ah well. I used to be a general when I was of the age of nineteen. Ah, those were the days. Oh, what tie is better?"

The video feed opened up again as Alexander, now dressed, showed to ties. One was light blue, with dark blue stripes, the other was Black. His uniform was Black with a red stripe going down the shoulders, and a red triangle with a black scorpion tail on his upper left breast.

"I personally think that the black goes with it best...wait a minute..."

He adjusted his uniform.

"Haha! Silly me! I forgot that these don't have ties!"

((OOC: If you want a better idea of the uniform, it's basically the same as the NOD military uniform worn by Slavik.))

OOC: Sorry dude, RL issues with studying and stuff won't let me do this. I've already got two RP's on the go, one with Yallak, and the other with Azazia, plus I want to make a substantial post in your directors thread. If maybe you hand a leaflet about this to me as we finish the chat we're about to have, then I will have RL time then to do it, but until then, sorry :(

OOC: Heh, no prob Northford! Don't sweat it. If you have time, you can drop by, but don't feel you have to.

"Hello again, just another question...Have you met my Supreme Royal Fleet Admiral Jane Doerty? She's going to be coming with me, and I hope you two will enjoy eachother's company!"

The Aaronian delagation shall be sending a party of 6 guests, and shall be also arriving with 6 VIP bodyguards. We hope that you accept the need for us to waer the Traditional formal gowns of our culture and that you enjoy our presence as much as we look forward to the event. Guests shall be as follows; Madame Bianco, the President of our Empire, Lord Tyran, our Vice President, Sir T'Laris of the Resistance, an honoured hero of our people, and Baron Aaron Spence, former Emperor and legendary hero, Grand Admiral Chaax of Ouban and finally, Supreme Chansellor Nar Woo, former President and Chansellor to the Colonies.

Yours with Thanks. Longlife and Honour,
Monsieur Lionel Delacour, Imperial Presidential Aide, Palais du la Imperiale, Portanos, Aaronia.

To: Alexander
From: Emperor Craven <crave22@cravan.crv>
Very nice. I look foward to meeting her.

*******************

To: Mr. Lionel Delacour
From: Emperor Craven
I look forward to your peoples' attendance, and cannot wait for your arrival.

*************************

Preparations were already being made for the guests, with several suites being prepared in the Cravna Imperial Suites hotel, decorated to resemble the diplomats' respective homelands.

http://www.maj.com/gallery/Zukariaa/Maps/zuakariaanflagimmortal2.png
To:Emperor Matthew Craven
From:The High Commander, Henry Corrol

I, of course, will be coming to this "ball". It is important for world leaders to seal friendships with each other and gain trust in dark times. As the High Commander of Zukariaa, it is important that I do just that. You can count on myself and my father being there.

Signed, The High Commander

Of course, he didn't normally leave Zukariaa. He didn't like to. He didn't like the idea of going to something called a "ball". He would rather think of it as a meeting. He would wear what he always wore: His military uniform bearing the insignia of the High Commander. His father seemed rather excited about it. He was wearing his suit, as he normally did, and rolled around Corrol's office readying himself.
It had been nearly 15 years since the man had made a true public appearance, and although he would live indefinetly, he seemed to believe that every day was his last. Corrol was not excited. He would much rather have been doing paperwork or giving a speech to his people than socializing with leaders of foreign countries.

OOC-For a picture of Corrol, look here (http://www.maj.com/gallery/Zukariaa/Maps/grantcorrol.png). For a picture of Corrol's father, look here (http://www.maj.com/gallery/Zukariaa/Maps/corrolsdaddy.bmp).
Corrol's dad is in a wheelchair.

Msr Delacour loooked around the room and sighed with relief, he was afraid that these, "Cravanese" were not going to fit into Aaronian tradition culture at all, but with the Blood red quarters that Madame President had been awarded, he was pleased to see that they might just have taste after all.

He knew that the Imperial Tailors were working on the Formal gowns, only Baron Aaron was al ready suited out, he was to wear the robes that we was Elected in, made all of the war and peace treatry speeches in and that he abdicated in. The bood red and Violent Purple robes were a symbol of Aaronia's nobility and Honour.

Madame Bianco had suggested a long emerald dress for herself and Lord Tyran wanted a suit and tie but Bianco refused to let him.

"Your going looking and talking like an Aaronian Xen, not one of these foreign types!" she had snapped. He had accepted a light brown gownof simplest design.

I just hope that the King of wherever they're going doesnt out-do Baron Aaron.

To: High Commander Corrol
From: Emperor Craven <crave22@cravan.crv>
I am delighted to know you will be attending, and look forward to finally meeting you in person.

**************

A crash was heard in the ballroom as a table fell to the floor, having been dropped by one of the workers.

"What the hell?!", Director Gallens shouted as he ran towards the workers. "Do you know how much this marble costs? DO YOU?!"
"I'm sorry, sir..."
"Well stop being sorry and get your ass in gear, God damnit!"
"Vince."

Gallens turned, looking to see the Emperor standing at the railing in his suit.

"Stop being such a prick."
"Ah... Yes, sir. Carry on, boys."

The workers returned to their activites as Gallens approached the Emperor.

"How many more guests have confirmed they're coming?"
"A few. It'll be a full house. Between the local Cravanian elite and the foreign heads of state, we'll have quite the turnout."
"Good. Has the Empress chosen a dress, yet?"
"Vince, you know Rosalyn. She wouldn't be able to choose a dress if you gave her one to choose from. She's leaning towards that green one I like, though. You know, with the peacock-type trim?"

The Head Director chuckled, remembering how picky the Empress could be.

"Yes, sir."
"Well, carry on. I'll go check for more responses to the open letter."

To: Emperor Cravan <crave22@cravan.crv>
From: Monsieur Delacour <L.Delacour@Pal-Imp.Gov.IA>
Subject: Food

Your Imperial Highness,

t is the wish of the President that she be provided with a sample of the Menue for the evening of your ball's cuisine. She can be very picky, and if you want, i'll tell her to mind her own.

Lionel.

To: Emperor Craven:
From: Stewardess Isabella Reinhard
Subject: World Leaders Ball

I would be honored to attend this event. I request nothing more than to bring two highly trained Tocrowkian Marines armed with M9's as my protection, both dressed in formal Marine attire of course. As well, I shall of course be present in formal attire as per the requirements.

((OOC: Some pictures of the uber-sexy her grace: http://img183.imageshack.us/img183/6824/alizee1024x76816386kh4.jpg
http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y97/LaCroix22/IsabellaKastinivaReinhard.jpg))

To: Stewardess Reinhard
From: Emperor Craven
It is my delight to have you attend our function, and of course your request for your Marines is more than acceptable. I look forward to seeing you there.

***************

To: Monsieur Delacour
From: Emperor Craven
The majority of the evening's menu will consist of various fine drinks from around the world, along with a variety of Hors d'œuvre type snacks. I have consulted the palace's chefs to take recipes from around the world, and there will more than likely be some cuisine from your nation. I do not, however, have specifics. I left that to the palace kitchen staff.

OOC: I'd love to join this, but my leader will become a center role in the separatist RP.

OOC: You could always just send a representative. Or someone else in the government, like a Vice President role.

OOC: You could always just send a representative. Or someone else in the government, like a Vice President role.

OOC: True, I'll prepare an IC post then.

To: Emperor Craven

I tend to do bad at these kinds of events, but, to hell with it. I'd like to attend this ball, assuming you'd let me come.

President of the People's Republic of H-Town Tejas/Chairman of the Tejano Worker's Party Nagaraku Ryouta no Atarashi-Fukuoka

To: Ryouta no Atarashi-Fukuoka
From: Emperor Craven
You are more than welcome to attend. I look forward to seeing you here.

OOC: Bump for anyone else. Did I mention there's free food?

A Ball, Just lovely, Erika thought to herself as she went through reading the random intelligence reports. Eh, what the hell, I might as well enjoy myself, and have some fun
Official Reply to Matthew Craven

Dear Sir, I would be delighted to attend this ball you are throwing, although I must ask, do you consider a birthday suit formal? Relax, I'm just joking. So anyways, I'll show up, but I'm gonna need airspace clearance for an aircraft, as I like to make an entrance. Anyways, can't wait to see you there,

Erika Kars
Chairwoman of the INGC.

To: Erika Kars
From: Emperor Craven
I'd be delighted to have you here, but I must ask... What do you mean by aircraft clearance? And making an entrance? I'll tell the Stinger operators on the roof to avoid shooting you down if it involves coming in over the Palace. In any case, you're more than welcome to attend.

---------------------------------
OOC: Figure I'll start it now. Aequatio, you can just send your dude in anyway unless you want to do an IC response. In any case, hop on in. Northford, you can as well if you get a chance and feel up to it.

"Everything ready?", the Emperor asked as he descended the marble stairs, dressed in one of his finest suits.
"Yes, sir.", Director Gallens said cheerfully. "After days of painful setting up, its ready."
"About time. Have the notices been sent?"
"Yes, sir. Our guests have been told that the ball begins in a few hours."
"Good. Now... Where's the music?"
"Setting up, sir."

He walked out of the ballroom with Gallens, taking in the beauty of the Imperial City as dusk fell. Lights flickered on the towers of downtown Cravna, traffic dying down as the nation began its slumber. The fountains in the Palace Gardens shot water into the air, the lights embedded on the inside of the fountains causing them to sparkle brilliantly.

http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c381/crave22/Cravan/imperial_palace_night.jpg

"So, sir, where is the Empress?"
"Where the hell do you think.", the Emperor said with a smirk. "Getting ready, as usual."
"Heh... I should've known."
"Yes, you damn well should've."

Guests from the Cravanian government and major players in Cravan began to arrive, escorted by guards as throngs of photographers lay in wait at the palace gates. Music began to flow from the doors of the palace into the warm summer air, the soft beats of the string instruments carrying the sweet tune on through the night.

"Beautiful night."
"That it is, sir."

Guards patrolled the walkways of the Gardens as shadowy figures moved on the roof of the Palace, keeping watch for threats to the guests of the party.

"Well, I'm going to go have an opening scotch. Care to join me?"
"Of course, sir."

The two men walked back inside to get a drink as guests began to flow in. Senators, Directors, Generals, CEO's, and the like. It was to be quite the party.

((OOC: Alright, cool. Can I just go ahead and post arriving in a limo and stepping into the palace and such?))

((OOC: Yeah, that's what I inended. Go right ahead.))

A pitchblack sedan pulled up out front of the Cravanian Imperial Palace. The windows gave no view of who waited inside. To anyone it would seem an average car, although it was actually an armored car. Suddenly the passenger door opened. A soft whiz of mechanical gears could be heard as a built in device hefted a small, old man in a wheelchair out of the car. It suddenly unlatched and withdrew, as a one Timothy Corrol took a nice breath, and turned his electric powered wheelchair to face the backdoor of the car.

It opened, and a single boot touched the curb. The door fully opened to reveal a man in his early 60s. He had a rather short trimmed beard, and short, brown, seemingly combed hair. The man was in military uniform. His sleeve bore the insignia of the High Commander.

As the man stood up, the door closed behind him, seemingly by itself.

"You look good, boy." the old man spoke, half laughing as he always was.
"Yes, well, let's go. I would rather not be seen by too many people." he said, beginning to walk forward. They both were speaking in German as they moved forward. Towards the palace..

"Oh my God, it's Henry Corrol!", a photographer shouted, recognising Corrol from the single picture she had ever seen of him. Dozens of flashes came from the photographers as they attempted to get a good shot of him, in order to finally get high quality pictures in circulation. Guards moved to try and disperse the photographers, only managing to stall them as they moved to gain better positions on the leader of Zukariaa.

By this time some people had begun walking about the Gardens as they awaited more guests to arrive, taking in the beauty of the night. A cool breeze gently rustled the leaves of bushes and trees in the Gardens as music softly echoed from the open doors of the Palace.

Isabella Kastiniva Reinhard sat with a folding mirror in hand giving a last minute check-up of her appearance. The Tocrowkian Stewardess looked stunning tonight, her hair styled in such a way that it was wavey, but not quite curly, her bangs were combed back so as to night obscure her eyes, which was traditionally considered an insult at formal occasions in Tocrowkia. Never much one for make up, the only make up she applied was black eye shadow.

She was clad in a modest, but still extremely sexy and flattering black dress. Though it showed just the slightest amount of ankle, the strappy dress was designed to draw attention to the wearers bust. Though it wasn't slutty, it still gave the viewer an eye full of Isabella's all natural, C sized breasts. The fact that she was also wearing black, closed-toe high heel shoes that arched her back and pushed her chest forward all complimented and enhanced the Stewardess' already extremely fine figure.

The only jewelry she wore was her purple-ruby Matriarchal ring and two red ruby earrings, with elbow-length black gloves completing the elegant and intelligent appearance of one of the most powerful women in the world.

Isabella sighed as she snapped the mirror shut. With all the war and conflict in her nation, the fact that many of the wars her nation had entered into had been done so without her permission as well the recent video tape scandal had driven her to brink. Perhaps this was exactly what she needed, a nice night of partying, to forget about everything for a few hours.

Her two bodyguards, Tocrowkian Marines, one male and one female, were clad in Full dress uniform's, which were jet black featuring some silver elements, an iron cross above their right breasts and other miscellaneous medals decorated their chests, not to mention the caps on their heads also gave them an elegant, if not intimidating appearance.

Isabella hoped everyone else at the conference would bother to speak in English, though a master of several languages she doubted she knew any of the languages of the nations that would be attending, unless they would be speaking Toc-German, English, Spanish or latin them selves.

"Madam, we've arrived." Came the message from the drivers compartment. With a nod, the limo slid to a stop in front of the palace. The marines were the first to exit, giving a quick survey and deeming the area secure. Isabella soon followed them, and they began the treck to the front doors of the palace.

"Oh my God, it's Henry Corrol!", a photographer shouted, recognising Corrol from the single picture she had ever seen of him. Dozens of flashes came from the photographers as they attempted to get a good shot of him, in order to finally get high quality pictures in circulation. Guards moved to try and disperse the photographers, only managing to stall them as they moved to gain better positions on the leader of Zukariaa.

By this time some people had begun walking about the Gardens as they awaited more guests to arrive, taking in the beauty of the night. A cool breeze gently rustled the leaves of bushes and trees in the Gardens as music softly echoed from the open doors of the Palace.
It seemed that the exact opposite of what Corrol had hoped for had happened. Several Cravanian photographers were taking pictures of him. First, he heard the yelling, and turned as a picture was taken, then realized what it was and turned away, quickening his stride.
"Nosey little shits." he said, although not in a truly angry way. His father simply chuckled.

They eventually reached the palace, and entered, not sure of what they would see inside..

When they entered, the Palace Hall was there to greet them. A massive open room, the Hall was richly decorated and full of priceless Cravanian treasures. Marble tiles extended in a walkway from the door, reaching a massive marble staircase which led to the upper levels. Pillars of stone stood along the white marble walkway, extending to the roof and offering support to the massive chamber. Hardwood floors sat on either side of the marble walkway, some of it open for dancing and other areas filled with sitting areas to mingle. Already some men in suits had gathered in a set of chairs, conversing quietly as the Cravanian Imperial Military Orchestra played classical pieces from their platform on the right side of the room.

Waiters moved about in a constant flurry, delivering drinks and food to guests as they continued to arrive. The Imperial Military Chorus could be seen gathering near the orchestra, getting into positions on the risers and preparing for their opening piece.

As all this was going on, Emperor Craven stood conversing with the Head Director cheerfully, a glass of whisky in his hand. When he saw the Corrols had arrived, he moved to greet them, extending his hand.

"Welcome to Cravan, Mr. Corrol.", he said, welcoming the man with a warm handshake.


Outside, the reaction for Isabella Reinhard was much the same for that of Corrol, photographers trying to get good angles for photographs of her. As she made her way to the Palace, many of the guests in the Gardens greeted her with a polite smile or nod of the head.

"The feeling is mutual," he replied, shaking the emperors hand,"Could we sit?"
Corrol's father, however, was no longer paying attention. He looked around the room in wonder, and as waitresses passed by he would stare as long as there was something to be stared at.

He suddenly spoke to the Emperor in a slightly accented English, his voice sounding rough,"Hey, boy! You got any food in this place?"
Corrol, being used to such actions from his father, simply waited for the Emperor to reply to the old man.

"Why yes I do.", the Emperor responded with a smile. He snapped his finger, and a young, attractive waitress approached.

"Yes, sir?"

The Emperor motioned to Mr. Corrol, where the waitress turned her attention, waiting for him to place an order intently.

"In the meantime, let's have a seat.", the Emperor said to Henry while motioning towards a grouping of chairs nearby. "My wife will probably be a while. God only knows what she's doing up there."

Timothy simply oggled the girl for a moment, before saying,"Err.. I would have gone crazy if Sarah looked you, girl! I've been single for 139 years, what do you say to having some fun?!"
His old eyes seemed to spark as he awaited the reply.

Corrol took his seat with Emperor Craven,"I wouldn't know. I've never been married." his voice was low, and he spoke English as if he were American, giving nothing away to the fact that his primary language was in fact German.

The press reaction was not something Isabella was expecting nor use to, as in Tocrowkia such nosy reporters and photographers were usually shot. How ever, she did stop for a moments to answer a few questions and pose for a few questions.

She always returned the smiles of the guard before and her escort made their way inside to the palace hall. She made no move, how ever to approach any other of the guests, and instead left that to them. She didn't want to offend some strange rule or culture by doing so.

"Yeah, well... To each his own. I hope your father knows that the majority of the staff here are military.", the Emperor said while taking a sip, watching the waitress walk away in disgust from Timothy out of the corner of his eye. "Including the women."

At that moment, Isabella entered the hall, attracting eyes from many of the guests.

"Well who do we have here?", Director Gallens asked rhetorically with wide eyes.
"Vince, calm down. You're married for Christ's sake."
"No, no, no... I'm not thinking anything like that... But wow.", he said as he watched her move into the hall. "Say, any idea when Rosalyn is coming down?"
"She wants to make some sort of grand entrance when some more guests arrive. She seems to have finally gotted used to palace life for the twenty-two years we've been married. Hell, it took long enough.", the Emperor said as he observed the crowd of guests. Soon enough, the chorus took to the stage, filling the hall with a harmonic sound as they sang several classic pieces in Latin.

Well...this was certainly an awkward moment for Isabella. She was unable to approach anyone for fear of offending some chauvinistic custom that may not even exist for all she knew, but at the same time she didn't want to stand around like a buffoon, but she didn't know which table was hers, rather one had been reserved for her or not. She managed to pull one of the waiters, and in a polite voice she timidity asked.

"Excuse me, can you show me to my table assuming I have one reserved, or may I just sit anywhere?"

"Well, madame, you may sit anywhere in the room and mingle with the guests. If you need anything, just ask a staff member and they will deliver it promptly.", the young man said with a smile. "If you'll please excuse me, I have to deliver these drinks to some guests."

As he walked away, one of the guests approached Isabella, a drink in hand. He was a middle-aged man, handsome by society's standards.

"Evening, ma'am. You seem lost.", he said with a chuckle. "I'm Michael Dulson. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you?"

He knew very well who this woman was, having seen her record cross his desk several times. As Director of Intelligence, he was required to know who she was.

(OOC: If this thing has already started/isn't open anymore/you don't like this post; just ignore this)
IC:

"Where's Mrs. Daniels?" asked a Presidential aide while walking at a fast pace down the halls of the Presidential Palace.

"She's still sleeping. Why?" replied the soldier, obviously irritated.

"Thanks!" The aide ran down the hall as fast as he could, before arriving at the President's bedroom, breathing heavily and slightly sweating, he managed to convince the Presidential Guard to allow him to wake the president.

"Madame President..." he poked her with a stack of papers he had in his hand, on them, the Seal of the Federation along with the words 'Council of Foreign Affairs' adorned the top. "Madame President?" he poked again, this time gaining a response, not very polite, but still a response.

"God dammit, what in the hell do you want!"

"Madame President, I'm sorry, but the COFA said they needed your approval immediately to start relations with new countries...."

"Fine, you have my approval, let me go back to bed." she waved him away, not even bothering to look at the list of ambassadors to the event.

To: Democratic Empire of Cravan
From: Vuhifellian Federation
Subject: World Leaders Ball

To whom it may concern:

As the Federation is eager to start new and peaceful relation with countries whom, in the past, we could not have. We would like for you to allow the following emissaries to your ball:

-Brian Miller: Councilor of Foreign Affairs
-Hanmyo Kitsumaru: Ambassador to the UPEO

We would also like to enquire if a Councilor's ceremonial foreign missions robe would be appropriate attire for the occasion.

Signed
Kaname Chidori
Kaname Chidori, Vice President of the Federation of Vuhifellian States

OOC: Naw, jump on in.

"Sir, message recieved from The Vuhifellian States.", an aide said while handing a paper to the Emperor. He skimmed it quickly, and handed it back to the young woman.
"Tell them they're more than welcome to come, and ceremonial robes are appropriate."
"Right away, sir."

She rushed off to her office in the Palace to begin typing up a response.

****************************
To: Kaname Chidori
From: Emperor Craven
I would be most delighted to have your ambassadors attend, and ceremonial robes are perfectly appropriate for this occasion. I look forward to seeing you here.

Brian Miller was checking his robes for the fifth time in the limo since they left the airport. He hadn't even seen a ceremonial robe before, and somehow, it just wasn't the color he expected....

"I just don't think it's supposed to be yellow!" He announced to Hanmyo, who was sitting quietly next to the phone.

"Yes, it is, you're the lowest ranked member on the council, so you get the least flashy robe."

"That's not fair." Brian grumbled, still irritated that he got the least comfortable robe on the council.

They arrived at the Palace, a little late, as most of the foreign represenatives were already settled in.

"Well I hope everyone's having a good time, have fun you two, call me back at the plane if tyou need anything!" said the driver as they got out of the limo. Brian in his yellow robe, Hanmyo was wearing a formal dress for the occasion, still clutching her cell phone so she could call the driver and ask him to get her away from all this noise.

"Well, madame, you may sit anywhere in the room and mingle with the guests. If you need anything, just ask a staff member and they will deliver it promptly.", the young man said with a smile. "If you'll please excuse me, I have to deliver these drinks to some guests."

As he walked away, one of the guests approached Isabella, a drink in hand. He was a middle-aged man, handsome by society's standards.

"Evening, ma'am. You seem lost.", he said with a chuckle. "I'm Michael Dulson. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you?"

He knew very well who this woman was, having seen her record cross his desk several times. As Director of Intelligence, he was required to know who she was.

"Oh, well yes. Just a bit..."

She replied, in English of course, trying not to seem like too much of an idiot. Her guards remained silent and stoned faced with their arms folded behind their backs as she did so.

"Anyhow, it's a pleasure to meet you. I am Isabella Reinhard, Stewardess of the Tocrowkian Reich. I also have a bunch of other titles that go along with that but don't really mean anything."

Bianco informed the guards politley for the 5th time of her name and Nationality.

"Ok Madame President, you may enter."

Thank God!" she said quietly to Tyran. Xen and herself had been partnered up for the event, Baron Aaron was already inside with Ambassador Woo and Chaax and T'Laris had been the first to arrive.

She flaoted up the stairs toward the Palace enterence in her Shimmering Emerald Dress, Tyran was in his chocolate-like gown beside her looking, as usuall, boring.

She spotted T'Laris at the enterence talking to the Vuhifellian delegates, he was dressed in a long Black robe and small satin turbin. She noticed that there were some others wearing robes of all shapes and colours. Even a yellow one which everyone seemed to be lauphine at.

"Xen, i'm off the ta;lk to that young man over there in the yellow, you mingle a bit, and ged me something heavily alcoholic" she winked slyly at him.

She washed a hand through her Grey streaked black hair and appraoched the man.

"Hey there, I'm Noisette, Nice to see you." she started.

"Oh, well yes. Just a bit..."

She replied, in English of course, trying not to seem like too much of an idiot. Her guards remained silent and stoned faced with their arms folded behind their backs as she did so.

"Anyhow, it's a pleasure to meet you. I am Isabella Reinhard, Stewardess of the Tocrowkian Reich. I also have a bunch of other titles that go along with that but don't really mean anything."

"Pleasure to meet you, as well, madame.", he said with a charming smile. "Would you care for a drink?"

****************

The Emperor observed as the Aaronians entered, taking note of the deep emerald hue of the President's dress.

"Thank God the dress Rosalyn picked out is a slightly different hue of green... Else she would refuse to come out if she saw that dress."

Director Gallens silently laughed to himself as he downed his fourth glass of scotch of the evening. Already he was feeling its effects as he stumbled to his feet.

"I think I'm a going to go to the bathroom for a sec... You know, just to... Do stuff you do in a bathroom.", he said, somewhat slurred and giggling. He stumbled off to the public restroooms, knowing well he was down the path of drunkeness. He quickly removed a package of chasers from his pocket, and looked for some more scotch to take them with.

"Of course it would be different if Ouban had won the war." Tyran was saying, "I didnt believe that Baron Aaron could do it, what with us all Occupied and Simonvia crippled, if it werent for the Scotllian air force and T'Laris' resistance movement, i would be speaking in Oubanarian1" he lauged.

The Cravanese woman smiled gently at him.
"I'm glad you are speaking in Aaronian, " she said "It's such a beutiful Language" she compimented.

Her use of Aaronian was good, the most Impressive Tyran had seen in a non-diplomat.

"To Multi-culturalism." he toasted
"To the relations" she replied.

OOC: It's Cravanian.

"Well he looks like he's enjoying himself.", the Emperor remarked as Director Gallens returned, looking in the direction where the Emperor was concentrating on.
"Oh, he shouldn't be talking to her. She's a cruel, heartless bitch."
"How do you know?"
"I had an extramarital affair with her. She works in my office. A foreign languages expert."

The Emperor looked at his Head Director, bewildered.

"Not another drink for you tonight, young man.", he said, snatching the scotch out of the drunk man's hand and placing it on a passing waiter's tray. "If anything I'm going to lock you up in your office. If you just revealed you had an extramarital affair with that girl I shudder to think what you may reveal intelligence wise."
"I'll be fine, Matt.", he said as he hiccupped.
"That's the first time in years you've called me by my first name. You won't be fine."
"If it'll make you feel better, I won't disclose how many nukes we have at this ball."
"You said that the last time, and you had one-fourth the alcohol in you then."
"Pfft... Whatever, man. I'm gonna go pick up some chicks and stuff..."
"You're married!", the Emperor shouted with a strained voice as the Director rose from his chair, wobbling as he did so. He stumbled around the room until he finally got his balance, walking sluggishly as he gained some sort of momentum.

The Emperor pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket, and flipped the sleek device open.

"Alpha Two-Niner, this is Buckshot. Keep an eye on Cheater if you don't mind."
"Copy that, Buckshot. Alpha Two-Niner inbound on intercept."

A man wearing dark sunglasses and a black suit jacket moved towards the inebriated Director, walking along with him and making sure the man did not reveal any government secrets.

"That should do for now.", the Emperor said plainly.

SOMEWHERE IN CRAVANIAN AIRSPACE
"Ms. Kars! Missers Heller and Giove (said Jove)! twenty seconds!" the loadmaster shouted as he opened the rear bay of the IAL-4. Erika Kars and her two "Brethren" readied themselves to jump. "GO GO GO!" the loadmaster shouted and the trio jumped. They fell to earth, spiraling downwards, and then as they approached the Palace, they spread their wings in unison and Glided silently down to the roof, where the men with the stingers sat."

"Ello boys," Erika said as she straightened her dress, "Hope the fun hasn't gotten too far under way. She then turned, and whistled to the other two, and the three of them hopped down to the surprise of the press and the rest who were there.

"What the fuck...", an Imperial Guard sniper remarked as he clutched his rifle, standing next to his assigned skylight. The roof was patrolled by countless Guardsmen, all of them armed to the teeth and ready to deploy at a moment's notice. They dropped the issue, however, instead concentrating on the task at hand.

"Well that was interesting..."
"Shut the fuck up, Marty, and concentrate on being my spotter.", one of the snipers said irritably as he watched the party below with open eyes and a hairy trigger finger.
"Uh... Sure thing."

OOC: Just going to skip the landing and what not, and cut to the arrival...

IC: Keene, dressed in the crimson robes of state occasions, exited the limosuine, and strode into the ball, glancing about to see who else was there.

Brian and Hanmyo entered the Imperial Palace's Hall, arm in arm, Brian still lamenting over the colour of his robes. Hanmyo was staring gleefully, since in her occupation, she was barred from drinking.

"Do you see this! This is greatness! Why can't our country be like this!" whispered Brian into Hanmyo's ears.

"Shut the hell up and stop being unpatriotic!Just shake some hands, I'll be right back." Hanmyo said, leaving him for a waiter with several glasses of champaign.

So, to compensate, he muttered a few insults at Hanmyo under his breathe such as "alcoholic bitch" or "oh, look at me, I'm better than you" in the best female voice he could muster for an imitation. He noticed a drunk being tailed by a man with some sunglasses...oh, this was interesting?

Some other foreign delegates, ah, what the hell, he would just walk up to some random guy and start a conversation.

"Colonel teff to Madame President." came the small comm in Noisette's pocket.
Swiftley she excused herself from the conversation.

"This better be good Ognaj1" she snapped into the ear peice.
"Yes Ma'am, it seems that we have had our suspicions clarified, the rebels are located in the Palace basement, I'll have the guards look into it and.."
"Colonel! " she interupted, "I'm in the middle of a ball, can you not just arrest them, just make sure that they dont access my Personell rosters or Private study, go it?"

"Yes Madam President, "

"Problems?" came the voice of the man clad n Yellow attire,
"Nothing worth leaving for!" she laughed, and then took his arm to the dance floor.

((OOC: Rebels in Palace basement? I assume your Palace basement?))

<< OCC: lol yeah, my Palace, should have said Palais du Imperiale >>

OOC: I assume the yellow dude in your post in me, correct me if I'm mistaken
IC

"So, coming here off orders from the top or are you at the top of the food chain yourself?" asked Brian as he continued to dance, he could eye Hanmyo trying to get herself some liquor in the background, he would have to deal with that later, a thought that he hated.

"Brian Miller, Vuhifell, and as you can see, I wasn't exactly blessed with best dressed of the occasion."

"Pleasure to meet you, as well, madame.", he said with a charming smile. "Would you care for a drink?"

****************


"The pleasure is all mine."

While the offer of a drink was tempting, Isabella of course kept in mind that it would be a poor idea to get drunk, so soon after arriving no less.

"Something light or non-alcoholic would be preferable."

"Of course. This is non-alcoholic, after all.", Dulson said while holding up his glass. He motioned for a waitress to come over.

"Would you mind getting the lady a non-alcoholic drink?"
"Of course.", the young woman said while turning to Isabella. "What would you like to drink, ma'am?"

*****************

"Marty, what the hell you doin'?"
"Emperor ordered me to follow you around.", a muscular man in black said. "Says you're a little over the edge."
"I'm fine, Marty, go have some fun!"

The man chuckled, smirking as he walked with the inebriated Director.

"Sir, I am having fun. You have no idea how much I'm enjoying this."

Gallens gave the Guardsman a blank stare, his mouth wide open.

"You know, I resent that statement."
"What did I say?"
"I don't remember. Wait! No... I do not remember. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get another scotch."
"No you aren't. You've been blacklisted for any more alcohol."
"God damnit, why?"

With this statement, the man collapsed into a chair, unable to walk anymore.

"That's why. I'll be right here if you need anything. But right now all you really need is to sober up."

OOC: Cravan, check your telegrams.

OOC: Replied. I like the idea, but I just don't see how it could be humanly possible.

"Of course. This is non-alcoholic, after all.", Dulson said while holding up his glass. He motioned for a waitress to come over.

"Would you mind getting the lady a non-alcoholic drink?"
"Of course.", the young woman said while turning to Isabella. "What would you like to drink, ma'am?"



"Just some orange juice will do for now, please."

Isabella was of course extremely polite about it. How ever, she didn't know if there was orange juice present at this party, but she figured it most likely was.

Accompanying Keene were two members of the Confederate Guard. The elite of the elite, they both wore tuxedo, an effect somewhat spoiled by the submachine guns on their back, and the pistols on their left hips, although the swords on their right hips rather complemented the outfit.

Both the men were expressionless as they walked in, but as soon as they were away from the door, the younger of the two guards' face twisted into a mask of hate and rage, and he drew his sword, shouting 'Die!' and lunging at Keene.

The older man, a grizzled veteran had his sword out in a flash, blocking the blow that would have skewered Keene like a shiskabob, and cutting viciously at his counterpart. The assassin leapt back, though not quick enough to avoid a cut on his cheek.

As chaos broke out, many of the guards moved to surround the duelling Aesonics. They did not interrupt in the duel, but they moved so, if needed, they would be able to get a killing shot on the would-be assassin.

Many of the guests and staff watched bewildered as the men fought, many of them completely unaware of snipers posted on the roof, waiting for the right moment to pull the trigger...

As chaos broke out, many of the guards moved to surround the duelling Aesonics. They did not interrupt in the duel, but they moved so, if needed, they would be able to get a killing shot on the would-be assassin.

Many of the guests and staff watched bewildered as the men fought, many of them completely unaware of snipers posted on the roof, waiting for the right moment to pull the trigger...

Despite her bodyguards protests, Isabella was determined to see the action first hand. Escorted by the marines all the way, they stood a good distance back so as not to get in the way, but still close enough to get a first hand view of the action. The Marines were ready to assist, if necessary.

The two men spoke not a word as they fought, thrust and parry, blow and counter blow. The older guard forced the assassin back from Keene, and he was almost purely on the offensive now, the younger of the pair barely managing to keep to ward off the fierce blows. Finally, with his back against the wall, the assassin thrust desperately. The older man batted the sword easily aside, and impaled his counterpart.

Withdrawing the sword, he wiped it off with a cloth he produced from his sleeve, paying no further heed to his now dead opponent. Instead, he merely returned to Keene's side.

Corrol watched from his seat as the two men fought. He didn't act worried in any way, and when the other man killed the assassin, he turned to the emperor.

"How did he get in here?" he said. Now he wanted to know what went wrong with the Aesonian security, or possibly the Cravanian security.


Meanwhile, Timothy Corrol moved towards a waiter who seemed to be rushing off in another direction. He bumped into him with his wheelchair, saying,"Hey boy, get me some chicken wings!"

"It looks like he walked in with Keene. I'm guessing he was a sleeper in the Aesonic guards or something. He had clearance to get into the ball itself, since he is one of the guards. Excuse me for a moment."

The Emperor removed a cell phone from his jacket pocket, flipping it open and holding down a two-way button.

"Can we get a cleaning crew to the ballroom? A bit of a situation went down. Thanks."

He snapped it shut, and replaced it into his pocket. He looked around as the party regained momentum surprisingly quickly, the chorus and orchestra striking up a quick tune to take attention away from the corpse of the would-be assassin and draw more to the dance floor.

****************

"Uh... Yes, sir. I'll have it to you right away.", the waiter said, running off to the kitchen to get some chicken wings for the old man.

"Prick...", he said under his breath.

Chairman Nagaraku Ryouta leaned back in the seat of his gloss-black Chrysler 300C. Having been brought up in the slums of Southeastern New Fukuoka, as opposed to the mind-boggling riches he knew most of the guests had been raised with, Ryouta wasn't one for dressing up. He was wearing a black collared shirt, black dress pants, a pair of "nice" shoes, and a red tie with the yellow outline of a star that was on the Tejano flag. He had run a comb through his hair once or twice, and that was it. He was strapped with an MR-444 pistol in an inconspicuous holster, in case anything at all went wrong at the party. Considering it was a world leader's ball, there was most likely some fuck with a beef who would crash and try to kill.
"I still think you should be wearing something nicer to this kind of thing," the driver said to the Chairman.
"All I have beside this shit's a pimp suit. Ya want me to wear my pimp suit, bro? I've got it, you know, right in this car," Ryouta replied, "I even got a pimp cane. And...no, wait, I don't have hoes, you'd hear them."
"That...that's okay, Chairman Nagaraku," the driver said. Being Cravanian, the driver hadn't been brought up in a place where his leaders regularly talked about pimp suits and hoes.
"Here it is, Sir. Have a good time," the driver said.
"Yeah, I will," the Chairman said, hopping out and entering the palace.
He looked down at the corpse over on the side.
"Are you shitting me? Already we had an assassin?" he said in Japanese, a bit loudly. Considering the crowd he was around, he hoped he was the only one who spoke the Nihon-go.
'Ah, fuck it,' he thought, 'If they know me, they know I don't talk like Dora the fucking Explorer.'

Isabella and her guards returned to their selected table and awaited her drink. She did wonder how an assassin could sneak in under such tight security, but determined it to be an error on the part of the nation attending and not Cravanian. Isabella was confident she had nothing to fear from her own guards, as they had extensive background checks, and had been mentally programmed to protect her.

Oddly enough, Corrol dismissed a potential conversation. He watched his father across the hall yelling,"Hurry up!" at a waiter who was running in the other direction.

"My father is certainly enjoying himself." he said, although not humorously,"I sometimes wonder if he is actually my father. We are descended from Yelthad the Great, who is known in Zukariaan history for uniting the Zukariaans and Zakuriaans into one Empire, based in what is now out capital of Yelthad."

This really had nothing to do with what was originally being talked about, but Corrol had lived for 139 years, all of which he had worked, studied, governed, and fought. He was a man of knowledge beyond most people, and here he was speaking to a foreign world leader about Zukariaan history, which somehow drifted off into several other topics.

"Yes, well. I'm a direct descendent of Benjamin Craven, the first Emperor of Cravan post-Revolution who was among the leaders of the Revolution. He adopted the surname Craven upon appointment to Emperor by the people, in honor of the founder of our nation who's full name has since been lost with time. Since then the Imperial Family has been an unbroken direct bloodline spanning generations."

**************

"Here you are, sir. A plate of chicken wings, just for you.", the waiter said as he handed the plate to Timothy. He left before Timothy had a chance to say or do anything, knowing well that it would only get him in deeper.

**************

The orchestra had been playing a slightly faster tune for a bit, while a lone soprano ventured to the front of the stage before the combined chorus, offering her high pitched voice to sing a classic Cravanian opera in Latin which was supported by the chorus behind her. As the bass section put out a powerful sounding background chorus, the remainder of the soprano section cascaded down the musical scale as if a waterfall of sound, the beautiful melody combining into a powerful musical piece with a firey tempo. Three guitar players, meanwhile, played at an incredible pace. The lead guitarist played with a clear sound, his fingers dancing wildly across the strings.

All this time, the Empress began her descent down the marble staircase, having finally appeared before the ball. She was dressed in an elegant green gown which complimented her figure, peacock detailng on the back of the dress. (many finer Cravanian outfits used animal patterns as a base for a theme) Her brunette hair was up in a bun, a diamond tiara gently resting atop her head. A diamond necklace glistened around her neck, while twin diamond earrings dangled from her ears sparkling. She walked with a visible grace, proudly stepping down the grand staircase. She spotted her husband sitting with Corrol, and moved to join him. The Emperor turned to see his wife, her features softening as they made eye contact.

"Well it's about time!"
"You know how much I love this song. I had to wait until they began playing it to come in."
"Ah, Christ... Only you, Ros."

She smiled wide as she took a seat next to her husband.

"Where's Vince?"
"Do you really want to know?"

She didn't even have to ask.

"Already?!"
"Yes, already. Four scotches within twenty miniutes of the doors opening."
"Dear God!"

At that point, she realised she was being rude to the guests before them. She acknowledged Henry, showing a glistening smile as she extended her hand.

"Hello. I'm Rosalyn Craven, pleased to meet you."

The old man watched as the waiter walked off, mummbling,"Stupid kid, I should have asked for water."
Pressing several buttons on a pad extended from his right armrest, a place to rest his plate extended from the left armrest. He palced the plate, took a bite of his first wing, and began riding around. He payed no attention to the calls when he passed closely in front of a couple walking in another direction, only hoarsly whistling at the woman.



Corrol looked down at the extended arm of the Cravanian empress. He hadn't expected to be greeted so much like a friend. He slowly extended his hand, shook hers, and pulled away. He was not used to seeing a woman in authority, which only added to the strangeness of Cravanian women in the military. Still, these were foreignors and he could not let what he was used to get in the way.
"Erm.. nice to meet you." he said. He didn't seem to notice the fact that she had gone to a lot of work dressing up.

Erika and her two bodyguards entered just as the fight ended. I wouldn't like to go at it with that guy Erika thought to herself as she flexed her wings. She liked the freedom that these backless dresses offered, and when in the right shade, either made her look like an angel or the devil, and tonight, she looked angelic. Her two bodyguards were dressed in white tuxes that made them look rather professional, yet dreamy at the same time. She and the two avian-men walked to the bar.

"A doubleshot vodka martini, a Bloody mary, and a virgin daquiri for junior here please." Erika said to the bartender

While Brian was simply gawking at the dead man on the floor of the hall. Hanmyo hadn't seemed much fazed by the event. She was simply staring out a window, her eyes lost in thought: three possibilites here; invite Jim Hawking Jr., her chauffeur/boyfriend; drink extreme amounts of alcohol; or mingle with the other guests. She chose the very latter.

The only problem was, trying to find one that was available, most of them were already occupied. She saw a lady with two bodyguards over by the bar, and decided to try there.

"Well, hey there! Nice to meet you," she offered her hand for a handshake before turning to the bartender, "a shot of Scotch if you have it please."

While Brian was simply gawking at the dead man on the floor of the hall. Hanmyo hadn't seemed much fazed by the event. She was simply staring out a window, her eyes lost in thought: three possibilites here; invite Jim Hawking Jr., her chauffeur/boyfriend; drink extreme amounts of alcohol; or mingle with the other guests. She chose the very latter.

The only problem was, trying to find one that was available, most of them were already occupied. She saw a lady with two bodyguards over by the bar, and decided to try there.

"Well, hey there! Nice to meet you," she offered her hand for a handshake before turning to the bartender, "a shot of Scotch if you have it please."

"Nice to meet you too, I'm Erika Kars," She offered as she shook the woman's hand, "And these two Brutes over here are Jim and Bob, but they generally act as one so I call em Jimbob." She said affecionately. They both looked over, giving the woman a once over, each flexed their wings in approval of no threat and turned back looking around at the guests.

A black armoured Escalade-limo pulled up slowly to the front of the building. The license plate was foreign, it appeared as gibberish to those not familiar with formal Dephirian. One flag, located just above the left headlight, was black with a red scorpion tail in the center. The other flag, on the right side, was bright yellow, with the dark blue Dephirian Trademark on it. There were two military issue attack cycles in the front, and a heavily armed humvee behind the Escalade. Alexander had arrived.

The convoy stopped as the back doors of the limo had reached the red carpet. A man in a dark uniform stepped out of the passenger's seat, and briskly walked to the door facing the red carpet. He opened it for a young man to step out. The young man was holding the hand of a young lady, whom also stepped out after the young man. This young man seemed to have military experience, and wore his old military uniform. The young woman wore a uniform as well, but it was grey. He had more medals and ribbons than she did. They both seemed rather fitting nonetheless.

"Goddamm Aaronian ale, should be illegal!" Bianco blurted out at her Vice.
"It IS illegal Madame President." Tyran replied swiftly.
"Then it should be MORE illegal!" she snapped right back.

Bianco had pulled out of the party to get a rest in the Palace's many bathrooms, Xen was just outside.

"Is Aaron enjoying himself?"
"I beleive he is engajing in flirtatious movements and sexual subroutines with a foreign guest Madame President." came the cool icey voice of T'Laris.
"Luckey for some, T'Laris why arent you in that hall?" Tyran demanded.
"I have news for the President, Ma'am, it would seem a Rhiuoparitian is requesting your hand in marridge."
Tyran burst out laughing and it was a few seconds before he was able to withstrain his delight tat this news.

"WHAT? Rhuuoparitian? The ones with the furrey orange suits?"
"Yes Madame."
"Aaronian ale should be illegal!"

"Nice to meet you too, I'm Erika Kars," She offered as she shook the woman's hand, "And these two Brutes over here are Jim and Bob, but they generally act as one so I call em Jimbob." She said affecionately. They both looked over, giving the woman a once over, each flexed their wings in approval of no threat and turned back looking around at the guests.

"The name's Hanmyo Kitsumaru, call me Kit, and that guy over there wearing the yellow and having no tact at all...he's not with me" she said the last part sarcastically, but it was a fact that Brian Miller was a socially inept tactless fool.

"So, enjoyin' this place? Here on orders? Here for the food? Eh?" asking all of this to Erika while she downed the shot of Scotch just handed to her by the bartender. "Oi! Bartender! Another! Now!"

"Nice to meet you Kit," Erika said, and not to be outdone, downed her doubleshot vodka martini, and asked for another, smaking her lips as she said, "Damn, I forgot how good those tasted. Back in the Spec ops days, I used to beat all the boys in drinking contests, and damn could those fremen drink!" she said, tipping her recently arrived drink back. "and to answer your questions, I rather like the palace, although I'm more of a modernist myself, and I like a good lake too. No, I'm here of my own free will, I haven't been to an outside state function since I was three, and now that there's no one above me in my government, I can do what I wish, although the food is rather good..."

"Spec ops eh? Everyone I meet was in some sort of SpecOps force." she looked down at her liquor, and saw her bluish-purple hair reflected in the glass, then back to Erika, "so you've never been outside your country since three, eh? Or am I mistaken? Well, you've got spec-ops background; I have ambassador background, but I do have a tendency to drink too much en route..." She looked at Brian, who was sitting down at a table now, stuffing his face full of what looked like rice, and drinking bottled water.

"Must be nice, huh? Being in an SF squad...from the stories I've heard I mean!" before she got an answer however, she got quite dissatisfied with the bartender. Actually, it was less anger directed at the bartender than the percentage of alcohol in these drinks. Exactly why she hated flying overseas, most of the county's she visited either had tight-ass heads of state, or they didn't produce real liquor, the kind that embarrasses a president when you return from a foreign missions trip.

"Dammit! Either get me some real liquor or hand me a bottle of cleaning alcohol!"

The bartender came running over, putting another drink before her hastily and continuing on.

"Sorry, miss, but I've got alot of customers to work with right now."

As he went along with his work, he muttered under his breath.

"Bitch..."

Meanwhile, Director Gallens stood up and began his drunken waltz around the room, escort close behind.

"Sir, I think you should sit down."
"Awh, shut up, Marty...", *hic*, "I can take care of myself."
"Sir..."

The man stumbled out into the gardens, where some guests enjoyed a view of the city by night. He began (loudly) humming a tune as he went on a moonlight stroll, seeming to have no melody or beat at all but just a random piece.

"La da da laaaa! La la la daaaaaa! La la la daaa! La la da la da!"
"Sir, what are you singing?!"
"That one really good song they were playing before. You know, it went like..."
"No... It didn't. I've never heard a Classic Cravanian beat like that."
"Then you need to open your fucking ears more often, man. It sounds, like.... Beautiful."

He continued to do his drunken dance about the Gardens, walking about in an unpredictable pattern.

"You make some good friends along the way, and aat times it's fun, but generally, we're sent in when someone else fucked up." She continued, asking for another double vodka martini, "Go for the vodka, it's actaully effin, so no fake stuff," she said right before downing her third.

"Do we have to go in this way?" Kari Alhoun grumbles as he feels the bottom drop out of his stomach.

In the drivers' seat Cpt. Alma Finlay twists around to look at him. "Ah, quit your complaining, Kari."

"And don't turn around like that! It makes me nervous!"

Lance Cpl. Jim 'Master' Shadowe sighs audibly. "Mr. Foreign Minister, you have nothing to worry about. We've done this before."

"Hard to believe," Alhoun says under his breath. His skepticism can be understood, as he is currently five thousand feet in the air in a flying car. It's actually a modified pod designed initially to drop Special Operatives, with a fuselage and cool racecar-like paints added. Like a falling bunny it descends out of the sky, much to the obvious consternation of the guards below, before hitting the ground and leaving a small crater. Foreign Minister Kari Alhoun steps out with as much dignity as he can muster, followed by the two Special Operatives, both of whom tower over him.

"That wasn't bad," Shadowe says to Finlay.

"You can talk! I have to appear in a clean suit. You two just have your uniforms." Alhoun mutters.

A guard walks up to them. "Uhm, excuse me, but this is an international ball open only to heads of state, sir."

"Yes, I know. We're the Czardaian delegation."

"The what?"

"Delegation. From Czardas. We sent a message..."

"What message? Sir, we would have been authorised to let Czardaians in if you had sent a message."

"Why that idiot... Last time I trust him with something!" Alhoun murmurs. At that point a man on horseback gallops up the drive, past the fountain, to stop at the guard, waving a slip of paper.

"I have an urgent message! From the Whole Sort of General Mish Mash of Czardas! Is the Emperor in?"

Alhoun slaps his forehead as the two Special Operatives behind him exchange giggles.

* * *

Inside the palace the guests are treated to the beautiful and terrible appearanace of a rather short and plump man in an impeccable tailored suit, with greying hair and an umbrella whose primary purpose seems to be gesticulation. Kari Alhoun.

A short distance behind him is a much taller man, lithe and slender, who could have passed for a basketball player or a gymnast but instead decided to go into the Army; he is clad in the blue Czardaian uniform, with a silver stripe extending from left shoulder to waist; in the very centre is a black emblem of the dragon that also takes the place of honour on Czardas's national flag. He has hair the colour of straw, lean and spare features, and is wearing a belt on which all his ZOMG INSTRUMENTS OF NONLETHAL DESTRUCTION are held. Jim 'Master' Shadowe.

The third to enter is a woman, about thirty but who could still pass for twenty-one, and almost as tall as Shadowe; her height is augmented by five-inch spiked heels on her combat boots. Jet black hair extends beyond regulations almost to her waist in a straight line, held back from her face by an orange sports headband; she surveys the room with cool green eyes with the air of one used to being in control, one who seems to command authority by her very presence; she seems to look through people rather than at them, as though they weren't there, reserving the full effects of her gaze only for those she deems worthy of it. Alma Finlay.

All three quickly begin mingling with the guests and soon the bodyguards have gone their separate ways. It matters not; Alhoun's umbrella doubles as an epée. The SpecOps just like going to parties.

"Well, WELL, WELL! " Bianco exclaimed as she came back into the dancing hall,
"Czardas finally sent someone, about time, Excuse my Lord Tyran, Mr.T'Laris, i've got a bone to pick!" she marched up, quite gracfully for her mood, Xen thaught to the newly arrived Czardas Delegation.

Bianco was small, but had an aura of stong will and, zest. She was clothed in an Emerald Green dress with a beutiful ruby-encrested tiara. She also held the Presidential staff, a large black emtal staff, taller than the Czardas man she was about to talk to.

"Mister Vice-President..." Tyran turned to see Madame Woo, the representative from the Aaronian occupied, Iridon island.

"What is it Nar?" he asked, bekoning her and T'Laris over to the back.

"We've just heard, Baron Aaron and i that is, from the Imperial Guard, that, well, Madame Bianco lost the election sir."

"Damn." he said shortly, he collected Nar, T'Laris and Aaron and tried to stop Bianco from making a fool of herself in front of the Czardas ambassador's, too late. Bianco was already tapping the tall ambassador on the back, and he was turing to face her in all of her glory.

Chairman Nagaraku looked over towards the bar.
'Suppose the first thing I should to is go get smashed,' he thought, walking towards the bar. He walked over, sitting down near two groups of people; one wearing some ceremonial robes (one sucker had to wear yellow), the other a winged lady and her two SMG-toting bodyguards.
'Let's hope those two don't decide to start spraying at each other,' he thought, snorting.
"'ey! Get me a sake!" he shouted at the bartender in his bad, heavily accented English. Seeing that the bartender was busy, he decided to meet people while waiting for the drink.
"'ey," he said to the two women, "I'm Nagaraku Ryouta. You two?"

"I'm Nagaraku Ryouta. You two?" asked a man whose English sounded like he hadn't taken a class. It probably wasn't his first language. Wait a minute. Wasn't this the guy who was swearing in Japanese a few minutes ago?

"I'm Hanmyo Kitsumaru. Don't call me 'Kit' if you understand Japanese and know how to pronounce Japanese." she said in Japanese, it took her a few moments to recollect the language, but it soon came back to her, as she hadn't spoken it in a few years. "he guy wearing yellow over th--"

Brian walked up to her mid-sentence, pulled out his mobile phone, and whispered in her ear.

"Tell them I'm drunk again, they won't ask questions!" replied Hanmyo, rather angrily, Brian retreated to a corner of the room before pulling out his mobile phone again.

"I'ma try your suggestion, by the way, oi, bartender, replace the next whiskey with vodka!"

Alexander, with his Admiral linking her arm with his, walked down the carpet towards the door. He opened the door for Jane to enter, and he went in after her. There was a table at the front, in which he signed his signature that will tell if he had made it or not. After signing in, he led Jane to the ballroom to meet other leaders of different Nations.